I froze, unable to move, clutching the phone in my trembling hand. That voice… deep, grave, and yet imbued with a disarming gentleness. It seemed to touch something within me, a distant echo, a sensitive chord I didn't even know I had.
"Please, speak to me," he continued, his voice laden with palpable, almost painful emotion. "If it's you… amore mio, say something, anything."
Those two words, amore mio, struck me like a wave of soft, troubling warmth. Why did his Italian accent, his way of pronouncing those words, awaken such contradictory sensations in me? Part of me wanted to curl up and flee, while another part wanted to dive into that voice, to find answers, comfort, or perhaps… a truth.
I took a trembling breath, my throat tight. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know who you are."